Love is Not Enough
by gopadfoot
Summary: The story of Eurus, told through her point of view, from childhood to her last scene in TFP. Somewhat dark, as expected to be when exploring the murky mind of a psychopath. Can be read as a companion peace to my story, The Final Deduction, or as a oneshot by itself.


**A/N** After watching The Final Problem, brought to us by the talented Moffat and Gatiss, I felt that the episode was powerful and dramatic, but was missing pieces to make it believable. A major conundrum was Eurus, and how exactly she went from being dangerous psychopath to lost little girl from one moment to the next. This is my take on it.

She watched him as she played, observing his face and mannerisms. Their violin duet had come to an end, yet she kept her gaze on him for another moment, before turning around. For the others in the room, though she was aware of their presence, she did not spare a glance. They did not matter, not anymore.

Eurus knew she was different than other humans, but that didn't particularly bother her. She had never felt the need to fit in. That would be as ludicrous as a giraffe trying to join a colony of ants. She was above and beyond all of them.

They did fascinate her, though. They were pretty easy to figure out, if you knew what to look for. The human species shared over 99.9% of DNA with each other, meaning their biochemical brain processes were pretty similar. One had to factor in other influences, such as the psychological impact of their relationships, particularly their upbringing and social norms. There were, of course, factors that could alter the usual neurobiological reactions, such as disease or drugs. All those worries about relationships and emotions, morals and ethics, when it was all about instinctive, mindless behavior no different than the ants crawling on the ground. She would have found it amusing had she not been afflicted by some of those very same instincts.

It seemed to her that almost as soon as she had achieved conscious awareness, a battle had began between her intellect and her primal instincts-or emotions, as others might call it-for dominance over the entity named Eurus. Eurus, believed that her brain was her identity, for without intelligence, there would be no awareness, and without awareness, her identity did not matter. Her primal instincts disagreed, and fought for control over her, over her actions, thought processes, her very essence. She identified them in her mind as a vortex, threatening to pull her in, until she was no more than a slave to its whims. And that terrified her.

The problem was, she soon realized, that there was no way to just make it go away. Humans are creature of instinct, and instinct is a primary reaction which supersedes rational thought. Yet she observed that a measure of control could be achieved with the proper training. So she began to carefully observe those around her, tracking their emotional responses, and how those interacted with their intellectual awareness. When he discovered that humans have a wide range of emotions, she tried to arrange them into neat categories in her brain.

The were telltale facial expressions and body language that gave it away. There were basics, such as fear (Mummy, when Sherlock fell down the stairs. Dad, when he received the news Grandma was ill. Mycroft, when she discovered his hidden stash of cigarettes.) There was sadness (Dad, when Grandma died. Sherlock, when his pet rabbit died.) There was happiness (Mycroft and Sherlock, when promised an outing. Mummy, when her work won an award.) Then there was pride, love, guilt, envy, so complicated, all involving different relationships and interactions. If you loved someone, you could take pride in their accomplishments, but you could also envy them, and feel guilt about that. It was pretty tiresome, but also very fascinating, and brain-stimulating, so she continued to study them.

She reached something of an impasse when she tried to read her own emotions. Whereas the others usually had one dominant emotion, hers was all mixed up and entangled. There was _sadnessangerfeareuphoriasadnessenvypainconfusion_ in one messy ball. When she tried to catch a single thread and hold on to it, the ball turned into a vortex and threatened to drown her. She would pull herself out of it and go back to the familiar confines of her rational mind.

Eventually, Eurus was able to put her observations to use by experimenting on those around her. She did it the same way she taught herself to play violin; she pulled on some strings, listened to the sounds it made, played around with it until she got it right. It wasn't very difficult with Mummy and Dad, they were easy to manipulate. Compliments and expressions of love would get her most of what she wished for. When that didn't work, an affected display of sadness would soften them up pretty quickly. As a last resort, she would play on their guilt and insecurities, talking about being lonely and not feeling loved. It was interesting to see how that never failed to get them worked up.

Mycroft was a bit more clever than the average ant on the ground, she had to admit. She put her skills to test on him, but he wasn't so easy to get. He was definitely less influenced by emotions, and would usually see right through her manipulations. Yet it was still there, beneath the surface, some simmering emotions that would subtly exert its influence. She would sometimes read it in his eyes when he looked at her, there was affection, guilt, frustration, and sometimes _fear._ It was interesting, that fear, it would be worthwhile to test it, to see if she can exploit it. She would need to be careful, however, he was still the sharpest of the lot.

Sherlock, on the other hand, what a pleasure he was! She played him skillfully and fluently. He was so open, so soft and pliable, she could mold him any way she wanted. It was such fun! Eurus would act out different personas, being the loving sister one moment, then angry, disappointed, or apathetic in the next. Oh, the hoops he jumped through to please her! She even got him to jump off the tree as an experiment. By showing him affection, she made him dependent on her, and then she could guilt and manipulate him into just about anything that would buy him back her love and approval. She then made a startling discovery one day. She felt the vortex, dark and looming, threatening to suck her in, and she searched out her brother. As an experiment, she threw her arms around him tightly, concentrating on feeling his softness and warmth. To her surprise, the vortex began receding a bit, enough for her to pull herself out and regain control. She decided at that moment that she would never let Sherlock go, he would forever be hers.

She had miscalculated, however, as she sometimes did when it came to human behavior. Sherlock strong feelings for the rest of his family, but there was some resentment included. He absolutely hated to be told what to do, which was exactly what Mummy, Dad and Mycroft were constantly doing. There was a reluctance on his part to return their affections, or let them get to close to him. When a little boy turned up one day to play, Eurus hoped Sherlock would keep his distance, too. She was to be disappointed.

Sherlock and Victor had a relationship that was as open and emotional as Sherlock himself. Although Sherlock usually took the lead in their games, his creative brain running away with ideas, their affection was mutual. They would laugh together with genuine joy, and stir up trouble with perfect cooperation. Where one went, the other was soon to follow. It was not so much Victor's physical presence that annoyed her, but the way Sherlock freely gave his heart to him. She had put so much effort into securing Sherlock, and Victor was stealing him away by doing nothing more than just being himself. She felt the presence of the vortex again, _envyangerconfusionlovehate,_ and she knew not at whom they were directed, nor how to sort them out.

It was supposed to be an experiment of sorts. Using her skills to convince Victor to jump in, assuring him it was just a game. Then she laid out a puzzle for Sherlock to solve, leading him to find her. She was confident that his emotional attachment to Redbeard, as Sherlock had code named him, would motivate him to solve the puzzle. Then, the distraction put to rest, he would be hers again. She would play him again to her advantage, and use him to root herself when she was being sucked in. She hadn't imagined the plan to fail so utterly.

Not only had Sherlock not solved the puzzle, but he had had an extreme emotional reaction when she informed him that Redbeard was gone. He had cried, screamed, pleaded. Her parents and Mycroft also exhibited extreme emotions, mostly fear and anger. She quickly realized that she was in deep trouble, so she pretended to misunderstand their reactions. She told Mummy that she believed Sherlock's screaming to be laughter, and she merely liked to make him laugh. She ignored any questions about the whereabouts of the boy, and continued humming her little song. Was Sherlock really that slow, that he couldn't figure it out? Once, she dropped a reference to 'drowned Redbeard', curious to see what they would make of it. They didn't, probably because the well wasn't on their property, only on the Trevor's.

She began to panic as the pressure grew, when there was talk of taking her away. She hadn't yet gotten Sherlock back. In a last ditch effort to distract them, she set fire to the mansion. Unfortunately for her, that only sealed her fate. She was taken away to an institution the very next day.

She couldn't say she missed her family. She didn't attach any sentiments to them, except for Sherlock. She didn't know how to describe her attachment to him, she just knew she _needed_ him. She would still get him one day, she consoled herself. She was clever, and would work it out eventually. In the meantime, there was a whole new world to explore. So many humans, so many emotions, so easy to manipulate. She would just need to be careful not to get caught.

Of course, it was Mycroft who caught her in the end. He would visit her several times a year, accompanied by Uncle Rudy. Sometimes she would ignore him. Other times she would make conversation, being starved for some intellectual stimulation which she certainly didn't receive by talking to the others in there. She detected his emotions, deep as he buried it. There was sorrow, wariness, and a lingering affection for his younger sister. It didn't matter to her in an emotional sense, she was merely curious. Her parents came once a year, on Christmas, and she would either ignore them too, or make statements she knew would startle them or frighten them. She would calmly analyze where they had been and what they had done over the past year, and make observations as to their emotional state. "You are frightened of me," she would tell Mummy in a monotone. "You still have hope that I will be cured, and want to bring me home. However, you are terrified of what I can do, and what I can become." She similarly analyzed Dad, who was also afraid of her, still loved her too, but was mostly resigned to the fact that she would never be 'cured'. She was neither happy nor upset to see them. It was simply an intellectual challenge to analyze them.

Mycroft confronted her one day. Uncle Rudy had arranged for him to have access to her files after the staff had been having some suspicions. She didn't bother to deny his accusations, he probably would have seen through that anyway. Yes, she had convinced some patients to commit suicide, one even a homicide. It was an experiment, it provided stimulation, it was fun, she told him. She didn't bother to explain how playing with other's emotions helped calm the raging vortex, he wouldn't understand.

She was moved shortly after that. Mycroft was practically projecting guilt and heartbreak as he escorted her to her new home. "I've told our parents that you've died in a fire. I won't have you destroy them any further," he told her. She found it fascinating that he was so hung up on protecting them from mere emotions, rather than a physical threat. Humans were so funny sometimes. She settled into her new life, waiting for an opportunity to begin her experiments again. It wasn't long in coming. Foolish, foolish humans, believing that they could study her like a lab rat, when they were actually the rats scurrying about, as she directed them according to her whims. They should have listened to Mycroft, poor little things.

Mycroft would still visit. When she asked after Sherlock, she was informed that her brother had practically erased her from his memory. She would need to remind him, then, if he were to find her, but perhaps she could do with some help. When she was asked to assist the government, she took the opportunity to ask for rewards. She started off with benign requests, such as a violin. When she felt she had made herself almost invaluable, she asked for the big one: a meeting with Moriarty.

She loved the look on Mycroft's face when she requested that. For all his icy exterior, he was mired in all these little emotions and bogged down by his morality. It was a choice between saving numerous lives and potentially sacrificing the wellbeing of his little brother, whom he cared for probably more than his own life. She didn't have a personal agenda against her oldest brother, he was just a pawn in her games. It was amusing to see him sweat through that one. She sweetened the deal by asking for only five minutes, which helped him make up his mind. Of course, the time limit was meaningless. She had her own ways of maintaining contact with Jim, it was just more amusing to do it this way. And it would be fascinating to see what happened after her plans came to fruition. Would he blame himself? Would the others blame him? Shun him? Human relationships were so complex when one let emotions rule, logic just fell by the wayside.

She prepared all experiments with a dual purpose. She wanted to learn more about Sherlock, his thoughts, emotions, reactions. Simultaneously, she wanted to teach him to be the one to destroy his relationships. She would show him how powerless all those emotions made him, she would build him up and make him strong. She supposed that if she ever did care about another human being, it would be him, so she would grant him the gift of understanding. In return, he might come back to her, all those other pesky little relationships destroyed, and be there for her when she called out to him.

That day was fascinating. Some of it went as expected. The three men's reaction to her little drone showed that they were capable of rational thought in the presence of danger, and had the chemistry between them for teamwork. There was a small risk that they might not survive, but every experiment involved some risk. She tested their mettle in the governors case, somewhat surprised that they couldn't take a life, even if it was to save another one. Seemed that there were some red lines people wouldn't cross, such as outright murder. Hmm, it was food for thought. Sherlock wasn't included yet, he needed to be stable enough for the more important experiments.

He seemed willing enough to condemn a man to save others, perhaps because the man was a murderer himself? Or was it because he didn't have to pull the trigger himself? It was something she needed to research further. The game with that pathetic love-stricken little girl was so much fun. Sherlock would have one less person whose friendship would distract him, and would simultaneously learn a lesson about losing himself to sentiment.

The next part was the most exciting, and it nearly worked. No matter which one Sherlock would choose, one would be dead, and he would then break off his relationship with the other one. He would not be willing to let himself get close to anyone ever again after what he was forced to do. Of course, she and Jim had guessed it would be Mycroft. Wasn't sentiment a funny thing? The brother who had made it his life's mission to save his little brother, and was constantly saving his life and cleaning up his messes, would be abandoned in favor of a friend whom he had hardly known for several years. Because Mycroft hadn't openly expressed his love and affection, while the little doctor did. Expressions of sentiment were powerful enough to mess with ones mind and even morals. Wasn't it ironic that what Mycroft had always held back from was the very thing that would now end his life?

Only, it hadn't quite worked out that way. Mycroft had stood in the way by being noble, the little doctor had stood in the way being noble too, and Sherlock, the idiot, had then decided to be noble too and tried to take his own life. She had managed to stop that, but she then decided to skip all her other planned games and go straight to the final problem:Redbeard.

Sherlock had finally figured out the puzzle, and came to find her, where she was sitting on the floor, the vortex swirling around her stronger than ever before. This was her chance, to get Sherlock back. Only her emotions were as twisted as ever, and all she could do was sob as she felt _guiltsadnessconfusionpainangeraffectionhopedevestation._ He had embraced her, and managed to get her focused enough to help him save his friend. He had talked about bringing her home, but she knew that would never happen. She was finally broken. Her experiment had failed. Sherlock was older and wiser now, he would never truly be hers.

She felt her mind break. She internally disconnected from her emotional vortex, shutting it out of her mind. There would be no more interacting with the puny little humans and their complicated little emotions, threatening to suck her in. She was on the plane again, interacting only with her own mind, where she was safe and would never be disappointed again.

He showed up again, but did not attempt to speak. She felt a tugging, something pulling her down, and attuned her senses to it. It was a few chords of music. She listened with eyes closed. It was not beautiful or touching, music was never that for her, it was _right._ Hesitantly, she turned around. She could respond to music. It didn't make a mess out of her, it didn't need to be figured out. Music was safe.

She stared into the eyes of the figure holding the violin. She recognized him, she felt something stir inside of her. C _oncentrate on the_ music, she told herself firmly. _That is the only thing that matters now._


End file.
